The Blame Game
by BRIANNANANA
Summary: 'There's no winner if there's only one participant in the blame game.' - Nothing good lasts forever. R/Hr Post-DH semi-AU breakup


_Rated T for swearing and mild, mild sexual content.  
>Better safe than sorry!<em>

_I'm actually a HUGE fan of Ron and Hermione. _  
><em>This wasn't even originally them. I only had the dialogue written because it was an assignment, but then my lovely friend Emily (psychopath-convention) told me it reminded her of RHr and so I tweaked it and added the rest, and voila!_

_Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do NOT own Ron, Hermione or Lavender. J. K. Rowling does._

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><p>Lately, Ron has had a drinking problem. I blame it on post-traumatic stress from the Great War, but deep down I know it's more than that. It's his insecurities coming through. We were inseparable after we got the go ahead to leave Hogwarts, and frankly, I believe Ron is scared I'm going to leave him. For Viktor. I don't know <em>how<em> that idea got lodged in his brain. Viktor had only contacted me once, inviting BOTH of us to his wedding. I've never seen the Bulgarian wizard in that sense, not since I found out that Ron felt the same for me. Nothing I can say will change his mind. And so, he visits the local pub every night. Normally I would just let it go, but tonight it's different. I was tired of having drunken conversations. I was tired of sleeping alone until he came home at 4am smelling of alcohol and fruity perfume. Enough was enough.

The pub was literally around the corner. Not far, but far enough for space when needed. Apparently, space was not what Ronald wanted.  
>The moment I laid my eyes on the unpleasant sight, I knew he had to be drunk. There was no other explanation for his behaviour.<br>I could feel my dinner rising up and my head began to pound.  
>"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"<br>"Hermione?" Here he was drinking his sorrows away with his ex-girlfriend on his lap. It wasn't subtle and it wasn't dignified.  
>"I'm done." My lip began to bleed as I bit down, channelling my frustration and hurt into the pain, instead of showing how I felt through tears.<br>I expected him to come after me, to stop me, to lie and tell me it was just a mistake. I guess I had too much faith in the man that was once the quiet boy with too many freckles.

Days passed without him coming home. The apartment we shared was becoming lonelier with every tick of the clock.  
>I refused to think about it during the day. I was reserved, speaking only when spoken to at work, hardly smiling and forcing myself to make it through the day. But at night. That was a different story. I would lie in our bed, facing away from his side. I couldn't bear to see the untouched pillow or the un-rumpled sheets. It was all too much.<p>

A month with no word. I was beginning to cope. My thoughts no longer revolved around him, and Ginny made sure I got out at least four times a week. Her thoughts of him weren't pleasant, but I laughed it off. What else could I do?

And then the wall I had built back up came tumbling down on that one night he returned. Drunk. Unaware. Ignorant.

"You're despicable."

I pulled back. "W-what?"

He glared. "A liar, that's what you are. A cheater, untrustworthy and fake. Why did I even begin to trust you? You've done nothing except make every single thing in my life go downhill."

"I-I don't understand."

His laugh was too loud, too fake, too menacing. "Now the truth comes out."

"Ron, what's going on?"

"Really, Hermione? Are you going to continue to play dumb or for once in your life are you going to man-up? I deserve the truth from your lips. Not overheard in the halls. Tell me this, was he worth it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Despicable."

As he turned to walk out of the door, I finally spoke my mind.

"I'm not weak."

He paused. "What?"

My voice escalated. "I'm not weak and I'm not your damn doormat. I have _never_ done anything wrong. Ever. If anything, I have made your life better. Your job? Because of me. The place you were sleeping? Mine. Your car, your food, your damn TV? All my doing. Don't you dare tell me otherwise and how dare you accuse me of infidelity. You'd be nothing without me, Ron, and you know it. If anyone in this apartment is despicable, you should look in a mirror."

His face paled. Deep down, he knew the truth. There's no winner if there's only one participant in the blame game.

"Pack your shit and get out. If you even _think_ about coming back, you'll be in for it."

Startled, Ron moved towards the bedroom and got a suitcase. I helped; throwing random pieces of clothing at him.

"Tell Lavender I say hi. She can have you. You're not worth it."


End file.
